


The Mudblood Healer

by beestung2025



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Founders Era, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 08:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14305245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beestung2025/pseuds/beestung2025
Summary: 20 years before the founding of Hogwarts. Hermione is a muggleborn who finds herself a place with Lord Salazar Slytherin’s clan thanks to an apprenticeship with Helga Hufflepuff’s sister to become a healer, providing potions and tinctures and wielding spells as necessary. Tom is the son of Salazar Slytherin and a muggle, but acknowledged since he is the only surviving male heir Slytherin has.WIP-- Will add tags later on as story building/plotting comes together with more cohesion than at this point in time.





	The Mudblood Healer

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Fair Readers! This Plunny refused to leave me alone last night-- but I don't know where to really take it? Tell me what you think should happen after this! I have a few vague ideas, but could really use the input ^.^
> 
> Also while I am not a medieval scholar, I am attempting to be somewhat accurate.

Hermione was unhappy, surveying the scene in the mead hall around her. The mage clans had gathered and she’d arrived on her own. She had no clan, coming from mundane stock-- muggles as the magical folk called the non mages. It was dangerous for a mage to be born into a non mage family, but no one seemed particularly interested in helping her. The old man who identified her as a mage in the London open market merely asked if she could read to which she readily replied yes because she’d learned at her father’s knee. With a broad, toothy grin, the man gave her a slip of precious parchment with the words “Diagon Alley is located behind The Leaky Cauldron” before stating that everything she could want to know would be behind the Leaky Cauldron. Thankfully, the public house was only a surprisingly short walk from the market. Before she could thank the old man with the twinkling blue eyes, he was gone when she looked up from the precious parchment. Hermione cradled the expensive and precious paper and tucked it safely into her dress. Hermione vowed she would read and learn as much as she could about being a mage.

Four years later, 14 year old Hermione stood alone in the corner observing the magical families and clans. It disgusted her that many followed the traditions of royalty-- marrying their close kin to keep their lines pure. Hermione had discussed with her doctor father about the impacts of breeding, largely on sheep like on her Uncle’s farm, who was a tenant for the noble Slytherin family. However, Hermione wasn’t sure if her father was always talking about the animals or the Slytherin family themselves. It was unsurprising, with some of the stories Hermione had heard in hushed whispers and shushed conversations, that the Slytherin family was one of the four most prominent families at the grand gathering of mages. What did surprise Hermione was the dichotomy of the mage clans either accepting her presence or malicious shunning her. Hermione felt decidedly unsafe and gripped her precious wand tighter. She’d apprenticed under a healer, refining her knowledge of the familiar potions and tinctures her mother made, along with learning magical herbs and their uses. In addition to learning the craft of healing, Hermione was also given informal training in magic-- enough for her to wield one of the famous Ollivander wands that cost 2 years of her salary to afford.

No matter how far she’d come since she was was informed of being a mage, it was clear beyond the simple interactions in Diagon Alley that there was a faction of mages who simply opposed anyone of muggle parentage. Hermione snorted to herself. As if marrying one’s sibling or cousin made them better than her. Hermione was hale and healthy, unlike some of the younger generations populating the clan tables where marriages clearly were kept between themselves. One boy older than her stood out from the Slytherins, although his clothes decreed him to be of the Slytherin clan. He had the same dark hair and dark eyes and straight nose, though his hair had soft curls that were nowhere to be seen in the very straight dark hair of the Slytherins. His skin was slightly paler too. He caught Hermione observing him and raised an eyebrow, before smirking and shoving one of his cousins out of the way to sit, pointedly, on the bench amongst his ill-fitting family. The message was clear to Hermione-- he may not be the perfect Slytherin on the outside, but he belonged to a clan and she did not. Hermione’s insides boiled at the display.

Hermione wasn’t sure why she bothered coming to the gathering. Her mistress had insisted on it, though the older woman wouldn’t be attending herself. Hermione’s mistress was widowed, and her husband’s family blamed her for her husband’s untimely death and was unwelcome now at great gatherings with all the clans. She pushed Hermione to attend to ingratiate herself to one of the clans and hopefully form an alliance with one of the families by marriage or work as a healer. Hermione doubted now if that would be possible; no one spoke to her and it was clear that being bold and introducing herself would be looked down on. She would have to wait until someone decided to speak to her. Hermione detested this, but it was the way of the world, especially for females that needed to make their own destiny.

“Here you go, you look parched for drink.” A brilliantly red haired serving girl, about her own age, handed Hermione a wooden tankard of ale.

“Oh, thank you!” Hermione smiled graciously, as she was quite thirsty. The serving girl’s smile widened.

“Haven’t seen you here before. Have you been to a great gathering?” The redhead asked. The color of the girl’s hair was unique, usually seen in traders and travelers.

“No. This is my first.” Hermione blushed and looked at her feet.

“Ah, come meet my mother. She’ll sort you right out. Are you looking for work or a husband?” The girl asked, tugging on Hermione’s sleeve to have her follow.

“Um, my mistress said to seek either, but that she could keep me in my apprenticeship for another year until I was settled.” Hermione explained.

“An apprentice!” The red haired girl squealed loudly, causing several people to stare at them. The pale Slytherin boy was one of them, along with a proud-looking older man sitting beside him.

“Yes, I am a healer. My mother prepared herbs, my father is a doctor.” Hermione blushed again, resolutely ignoring the stares.

“A doctor? Like, muggles?” The girl asked with interest.

“Y-yes. They are not mages.” Hermione stuttered as they picked their way across the hall to the other side where a small clan of red haired mages were gathered.

“Oh! How interesting! My father loves to hear stories about muggles, and frequently makes up his own, though it’s Percy who is the bard of the family.” The girl chattered on.

“By the way, what’s your name?” The serving girl asked.

“Hermione.”

“I’m Ginny. Well, Ginerva but no one calls me that except my mother. Just Ginny!” Ginny laughed and tugged again on Hermione’s arm. Hermione was a little intimidated to meet a mage clan, but it was the whole reason she was at this blasted gathering.

“Ginerva! You begged to be selected for serving duty today at the gathering and now you are being lazy!” A round woman, not much taller than Hermione’s own 5 feet, was berating her daughter before the girl could get a word in at all.

“Mother! I found a muggle-born!” Ginny dragged Hermione in front of her and pushed her into in front of her family. Hermione trembled slightly before drawing up her courage, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin.

“And what a pretty girl she is too, Ginny.” Ginny’s mother immediately softened.

“I’m Molly, of Weasley clan. I can see you’ve met my daughter. Let’s get you all situated, dearling. Come, come! Ginerva, you best get back to your duties lest you shame us all!” Molly’s statement to her daughter had a hard edge of warning to it, a direct contrast to the softer words given to Hermione. Ginny laughed and returned to her work, leaving Hermione in her mother’s care.

“Now, dear, tell me your name.” Molly began, sitting Hermione down near the end of the long table, where the Weasley clan was easily spotted by their red hair.

“Hermione.”

“And did I hear my Ginerva say you were an apprentice? Mage or muggle?” Molly certainly got down to business fast. Hermione rather liked that, instead of the fancy dances of words that some of the other clients in her mistress’s shop liked to adopt.

“Y-yes. I’m apprentice to Heloise Hufflepuff.” Hermione blushed deeply as the Weasleys who had been listening in on their conversation gasped in surprise.

“The Murderess?” One boy, a bit older than her with a twin sibling no less, asked. His mother looked at her son with scorn.

“There will be no talk like that, either of Mistress Heloise or towards her apprentice. The Wizard’s Council found nothing during the trial.” Molly said resolutely towards her sons. “Hermione, you are very lucky to apprentice with such a talented witch.” 

“Thank you. She’s very kind and fair, and I have become quite proficient with a wand as well as my craft.” Hermione’s blush that had finally started to recede came back in full force. The Weasley’s again stared at her.

“You are indeed quite lucky Hermione. Now, let’s see where we can settle you. Were you looking for a husband or work?” Molly continued, eyeing the muggle-born girl.

“Mistress Heloise said I should be grateful for either, as the great gatherings are difficult for a witch outside of a clan.” Hermione mumbled, trying to regain her composure as she felt herself being studied intensely by the family surrounding her. Molly nodded her head and tutted, as a boy with messy black hair came over to the table and sat with the youngest of Molly’s sons, which seemed to be about her age.

“Harold! It’s good to see you lad! And how is your good mother?” Molly greeted the boy.

“Quite fine, Mother Molly. Who is this?” Harold spoke towards Hermione, his green eyes captivated with the newcomer.

“A girl just like your dear mother, Harold. Hermione is apprenticing under Mistress Heloise Hufflepuff.” Molly smiled broadly at the gangly youth that seemed in easy company with the Weasley clan. Whoever Harold was, Hermione was glad for the formal terms of address so she could learn more about the people she was associating with.

“Ye Gods! You must be quite talented for The Murderess to take you as an apprentice!” Harold exclaimed cheerfully, but faltered at Molly’s stormy look. The youngest  Weasley son whispered in his ear.

“I mean, Mistress Heloise is as renown as her sister Helga! I’m surprised the Hufflepuffs did not come, but after the business with the Black clan, it is not surprising.” Harold tried to make up for his mistake, but only made Molly seethe a bit more.

“Yes, good sir. It is not surprising.” Hermione noted, trying to keep her annoyance out of her voice. Such gossip was embarrassing for the speaker and listener.

“Perhaps Hermione should meet your good mother, Harold? They are of similar situation.” Molly thought aloud, before draining her tankard. Hermione looked at her own. She’d barely had any and took another sip. The ale was bitter and needed more malt, in her own opinion. Hermione even thought of some herbs that could negate some of the bitterness from the hops as well as improve the flavor. Hermione looked up to see the dark eyes of the pale Slytherin boy watching her. The proud man was no longer sitting next to him, she noted.

“Mistress Heloise’s apprentice shall accompany me. We have work for her.” The proud Slytherin that had been sitting next to the pale boy earlier was now standing much too close to her. His hand rested near the back of her neck as if she were prey to be herded; Hermione stiffened in surprise and a touch of fear. She could smell the man he was so close-- horses and sheep and herbs, but herbs like the ones in her Mistress’s shop and not like the mundane ones her mother worked with. Hermione looked up at the man with wide eyes.

“Yes, Lord Slytherin.” Everyone around her bowed their heads in deference to him, the tension and hint of fear obvious.

“Come, girl.” Lord Slytherin grabbed hold of the back of her neck, and Hermione found that she had to obey him or risk hurting herself. She followed quickly with barely a glance and a mouthed “Thank ye” towards the Weasley clan who were muttering amongst themselves and their friend Harold.

“Listen, girl, I do not like mudbloods. If it weren’t for Heloise…” Lord Slytherin looked down at the small yet fully grown Hermione. He shook his head. 

“Be thankful for the name of your mistress, girl. It earned you a chance for a seat at our table.” The man said sourly and continued propelling Hermione by the back of her neck. She was beckoned to stand at Lord Slytherin’s side when he regained his seat of honor, so that he could question her.

“Do you know who I am?” Lord Slytherin began impetuously, after taking a long draw from his ale.

“Yes, my lord. You are the Liege Lord Salazar Slytherin of the Fens. Mine uncle is a tenant farmer in your holdings” Hermione kept her eyes lowered but her chin high.

“You are from muggle breeding.” Lord Slytherin sneered, a look that was mirrored by the countless black eyed people at the long table. Hermione remained silent, as the man had established that earlier.

“Has Mistress Heloise taught you to read?” Slytherin pressed on.

“M-my father did, my lord. Mistress only refined my runic interpretations.” Hermione answered timidly. A snort came from Lord Slytherin, whereas the pale boy next to Lord Slytherin spoke up.

“Do not correct my father, muggle.” The boy narrowed his eyes at her. Close up, she could see he wasn’t much older than her at all.

“Know your place, Thomas.” Lord Slytherin said snidely before continuing like his son had not spoken. “How did a muggle come by learning to read?”

“My father is a doctor, my lord. He studied at a monastery.” Hermione blushed faintly under the disgusted looks she was getting.

“And did your father leave the monastery?” Lord Slytherin asked.

“Yes. H-He met my mother, my lord.” Hermione answered, a few chuckles from the table in response.

“A virile man, at least. One with his balls still attached!” A man farther down the table guffawed loudly, and Hermione turned her head away, a blush coloring her cheeks. Lord Slytherin hissed something at the man that everyone else at the table seemed to understand to Hermione’s surprise.

“Are you a Christian, girl?” Lord Slytherin pressed on.

“N-no, my lord. My father and mother were excommunicated, and did not think that a god would look down on love He created. I was raised with the faith of the Celts, the faith of my father’s family before he converted to become a doctor.” Hermione stated, feeling uneasy.

“Ambition for knowledge and power.” Lord Slytherin decreed, the other Slytherins nodding, pleased though for what Hermione was not sure. Her father had been labeled fickle by his family, and heretical by the Church.

“I am satisfied girl. If Mistress Heloise will speak for you, you will have a place by our hearth.” Lord Slytherin announced to the room at large, which Hermione hadn’t realized had been paying close attention to the proceedings at the Slytherin clan’s table.

“My mistress sent me with this, for those interested in taking me in.” Hermione produced a small scroll from her pocket and offered it to Lord Slytherin. He took it, and motioned for Hermione to sit at the open seat next to his son. Hermione was terribly confused and clearly the rest of the table was as well, for she seemed to be taking a seat much more important than her proposed station with the clan. Furious hisses erupted as she took the seat next to Thomas, the pale Slytherin.

“You’re not welcome here, mudblood.” Thomas whispered furiously in her direction, only to receive a hearty clap on the shoulder by his father, who was tucking the finished scroll into his elegant silk tunic.

“Your place is by her, whelp.” Lord Slytherin hissed towards his son. Unlike before, Hermione understood this hissing. She also had the impression that with the amount of snake motifs on their clothing and armaments, that the clan could actually speak to snakes. Following Lord Slytherin’s pronouncement, Thomas sunk into a dark sulk and refused to talk. Hermione was confused, but kept silent. She had met two clans and a boy from a third. And she was to be taken in by a noble family at that! Hermione reminded herself to keep her breathing steady, and to use all of the manners that her mistress endeavored to refine before Hermione was allowed to consider attending a grand gathering of the mages.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hermione’s father was one of the few that Hermione knew of that could read. Reading kept Hermione out of trouble, or so her father said. It was the least conspicuous trouble she was liable to get in, with bouts of unexplained magic if she wasn’t calm and focused like she needed to be for reading. She learned recipes by heart and would help her mother prepare herbs for sale. Her father was a doctor, her mother assisting him with preparing herbal remedies.
> 
> Yes, I changed Hermione’s height. People were shorter back then, so I adjusted her. She’s not married yet because she’s a commoner AND she’s been apprenticing as a healer. She’s above other commoners as her father is an educated doctor despite being excommunicated by the Church for leaving to marry Hermione’s mother (whom he met and treated at the Monastery).
> 
> Tom was the son of Salazar Slytherin and a muggle tenant, but the only surviving male heir Salazar Slytherin has and has been tolerated as such-- despite being acknowledged by his father (the only necessary legitimacy needed before 1200s Britain)


End file.
